"Every time I searched within myself, I found others.”

Everything has an identity, and people have their own distinct identities, just as cities do. These identities are usually composed of various elements that complement each other. When it comes to the identities of cities, as I see it, the two most important factors in determining the collective identity of a city are the language that the person encounters in its streets and the nature of the city's architecture. As an Arab, whose mind is shaped by language, I will speak about the first element, the one that I noticed in the streets of Baghdad and questioned its significance.

What makes a restaurant in the area where I live, which I see every day on my way to the university, named "Delicious"? And what makes the shopping mall that I, along with many people, go to when I want to buy clothes called "Dream City"? Why is the commonly used name for a commercial complex "Babylon" instead of "بابل"? What makes the menus in most cafes and pastry shops in a non-Arabic language? And why is the (Fistok), with a soft "f" sound as Iraqis say, called "Pistachio"? What makes the music that fills the markets, shops, and cafes in Baghdad non-Eastern or non-Arabic music?

These questions toss me around, their manifestations appearing every day, leading me by the hand to another cave of questions that eventually lead me to some sort of explanation for all that I see. An explanation that satisfies the curiosity of the child that I am, the child who sees himself born from his language - even if he was short on his responsibilities towards it- just like Mahmoud Darwish says

I didn't think about all of this a year ago. I didn't think about it because I was confined by the shackles of habit imposed by my constant presence in one place where all its elements resemble each other in the fluidity of their linguistic identity or the absence of it altogether. And this familiarity that I lived in, where the existence of things in their familiar form deflects a person from contemplating and pondering them. It prevents establishing a connection with the essence of these things that the eye hasgrown accustomed to seeing every day. This habit wasn't broken until I spent a month away from Baghdad in Beirut, another city grappling with a linguistic identity crisis, which intrigued the traveller in me. The traveller within me didn't have enough time to get accustomed to the linguistic elements of that city in their existing form, so he found himself questioning how the city is connected to it’s linguistic identity in its essence and how its distortion leads to disfigurement in its linguistic identity. The traveller within me learned that, and I learned it too since that time, that I must accustom myself to not getting accustomed. I must break the monotony that the entities of the new world try to impose on me with their similarities, to lift the veils from my eyes, and to strive to see the depths and innermost aspects of things. This quest - which I hope I have succeeded in - led me to think about what I will discuss in this article.

Indeed, globalisation, along with all its positive aspects, necessitates the existence of other dimensions. Globalisation in itself promotes a dominant cultural model that infiltrates every aspect of people's lives, even those aspects that would not have been influenced if people had not allowed it to go beyond the cultural particularities of their nations, for example: our nation, The intended dominant cultural model does not dominate without subjugating its language first. Language is, first and foremost, the vessel of culture, and secondly, the gateway to profit that Some argue is the ultimate goal and intention behind globalisation, that is envisioned by powerful economic nations to assert their dominance. Understanding the dominance of the language I am talking about, English, the language suitable for globalisation in our current era, was the first thread I grasped on my journey to weave an answer to my inquiry.

The dominance of a language, its widespread use, or its suitability for globalisation in itself does not explain everything I have been questioning. I am aware of that. The matter is associated with the way people treat that language, and history - even the present - is rich with examples of nations that did not refrain from using their language in everything, even when their colonisers imposed their language on them. However, the current model of globalisation that we see indirectly creates an environment where its easy to distort the linguistic identity of a city with inhabitants who don’t treat the global model as a source from which they acquire different concepts and various matters that are moulded in their own language. This is the situation here, as many elements of this global model are taken as they are linguistically, and they are expected to be either models of excellence or models of inferiority, connected to this global cultural model that dictates how nations are viewed in the current era - criteria set by the people of those nations themselves- and those running businesses in Baghdad know that this assumption exists in the minds of many of their customers, and some even live by it.

In a conversation with a friend who opened a business with an English name, despite registering it with an Arabic name at the Iraqi Ministry of Trade, I asked him why he chose to have an English name. He directly replied that Iraqi people are fascinated by anything foreign, assuming its quality. Of course, this allows businesses to increase their prices as long as their name is Western and aligns with the global model and as long as their products have names belonging to that model and their shops are filled with music taken from it. Their customers are enthralled by all of this, and this chord is now played by every business owner in Baghdad, contributing to the distortion of its linguistic identity.

Behind this assumption, there is an infatuation with anything associated with that model, sometimes reaching veneration, and a disdain for anything else without scrutiny or examination of what is being dealt with. Everything that aligns with the prevailing model is considered good, while anything other than that is seen as bad. This uncritical infatuation with anything foreign and occasional veneration sometimes gives a sense of superiority to everything related to that foreign letter or cultural model. I am not only talking about goods and products; I mean people, culture, history, and heritage. Not for their enrichment but merely because they are associated with that foreign letter and cultural model. Coupled with this feeling is a whipping and contempt for the cultural and national identity of many nations on Earth. This is an ugly, dangerous, and utterly illogical matter. Ugly because it attempts to conceal the beauty in this world, which cannot be endured without it—the beauty of the cultures and languages of its inhabitants. It threatens the authenticity that beauty cannot exist without. Dangerous because it may gradually lead to the dominance of a single narrative that suits the current cultural globalization model for everything that has occurred on this Earth—a narrative shaped by the policies of the states that adhere to that cultural model, whose ruling hands are still stained with the blood of the people of the land and adorned with jewelry taken from their territories.

Such a narrative may enable cultural appropriation, which we have read about and witnessed today in a Zionist exhibition presenting hummus as if it were the creation of a zionist entity, while we can find a Syrian lady who prepared hummus for her children long before that entity even existed. This is illogical because it may happen in our time when we see evidence like the ones I fear have become too numerous in every direction.

With all that I have said, an important factor that might make this transformation - which I fear - possible in our time in Iraq is the weakening of the connection of many of our generation with the Arabic language and culture. There are numerous reasons for this, including the way Arabic has been taught to us in schools. Arabic language curriculum allows the reader to believe that its creators intentionally try to distance the student from their language, and most Arabic teachers seem to be the worst enemies of the language in the way they present it to their students. Almost every classroom has students who hate Arabic and feel repelled by it because of this approach. This is the result of the way education is handled today, as it is seen as a means to fit into the job market rather than a path for the learner to discover themselves and the world around them during their journey of learning.

Consequently, people end up choosing a specialisation without considering another based on how interested and passionate they are about it. This results in many education college students graduating as teachers in subjects they neither love nor understand. Phrases like "I hate Arabic, but I ended up studying it" have been heard by many of us from someone who was supposed to teach us the Arabic language.

In addition to all of the above, the current cultural output in the Arabic language connected to the sentiments of our generation is very limited, and its scarcity becomes even more apparent when compared to foreign cultural output. By foreign cultural output, I mean works produced in languages other than Arabic, not just those coming from distant countries. There are quite a few individuals who produce art in Iraq, but even they have begun to change the language of their artistic output from Arabic to other languages, deepening the existing gap.

Finally, many of us tend to criticize the ugliness we see in our cultural model as a whole, although this might not be entirely accurate. Every cultural model has its advocates who make people appreciate its beauty or criticize its flaws. However, due to the abundance of ugliness we witness, it may lead individuals towards the course I previously mentioned.

I do not express the views in this article based on national, international, or cultural bias, nor do I advocate for closing ourselves off from others or abandoning everything that comes from them. Such a stance would be illogical, just like the illogicality that first prompted my questioning. I do not want everything to become Arab; for example, I do not want sushi to turn into stuffed rice balls. However, I do want everything to exist in its place. I want this because I see that the earth cannot bear a monolithic sameness dominating it. I see it as a vast field with diverse plants that won't grow if uprooted from their places or if watered by people unfamiliar with their needs. I want us to delve into the depths of what we have without sanctifying or despising it before we explore the other. I want us to search within ourselves to find others, as Mahmoud Darwish said, not to find ourselves through their eyes and minds.

Written in Arabic by : Mohammadtaqi Al-ansary

Translated to English by : Tarneem Maitham and Ali Muayad 

Translated to Kurdish by : Sanaria Tahsin 

Poster Design by: Zainab Barazan